House of the Holy
by Dede42
Summary: While hiding from Agent Henriksen, the Winchesters investigate a series of deaths involving people who claim that an angel has instructed them to kill the guilty, and this same 'angel' asks Sam to do the same. Are they really dealing with an angel or is something else is ordering these murders?
1. Chapter 1: AN ANGEL GIVING ORDERS?

Supernatural: Houses of the Holy

A/N: Hello, I am back with a new story for you all to enjoy. So you know, there will be some additional references to the LDS Church in this one, and the Winchesters will also get some unexpected help from a friend.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE: AN ANGEL GIVING ORDERS?**

" _Order_ _my steps in thy word: and let not any iniquity have dominion over me_ _."_

 _Psalms 119:133_

Provo, UT…

Elvis was in his home office, going over some paperwork involving the trucking company when his phone rang; he picked it up and tucked it between his ear and shoulder as he made some notes. "Hello, Idris residence. Oh, hey, Hiro, how're you doing?"

He then frowned, listening, and set down his pen. "You sure? O – ok – okay, Hiro, now calm down," he said quickly. "Here's what I need you to do, okay? I'm gonna give you the phone number of some people who can probably help you with this problem; they're a set of siblings known as the Winchesters, and I'm going to call them to let them know about you, Hiro. Okay, the number for _Sam_ Winchester is…"

After giving his former mission companion, Hiro Connor, the number, Elvis hung the phone up and hit the speed dial on his cell. "Hey, Sam, it's Elvis Idris, and a friend of my, Hiro Connor, is going to be calling you soon about a possible case that's happening in his hometown…"

* * *

Providence, Rhode Island…

A young woman named Gloria was sitting in a dark room, watching _"The Drew Carey Show"_ on her television, and she was smoking. She wore smudged hooker makeup and the table to her left held several small angel statues, and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts.

 _`"_ _How little?"`_ a woman asked.

 _`"How about "a little eyeshadow"?"`_ Drew suggested over the laugh track, picking up a pink-haired troll off the desk. _`"You know, all this stuff, it's just very unprofessional."`_

 _`"Don't touch the troll!"`_ Mimi shrieked.

 _`"Is that what your mom used to say to your dates?"`_ Drew asked as the laugh track was triggered again.

 _`"Put the trolls down or I'll put a staple right between your-_ _"`_ Mimi threatened.

Gloria sighed heavily, lifted the remote control, and she flipped it to a televangelist station.

 _`"Now I know it's hard,"`_ the televangelist said. _`"It's hard to look up when you're down. It's hard to look up and see the light. But I'm here to tell you folks, the Lord is with you."`_

Gloria scoffed and turned off the television; moments later, the lamp to her right began sputtering and flickering. She looked around, frowning, and stamped out her cigarette; just then, the television suddenly turned on again, and she gasped in shock.

 _`"You don't have to suffer, you don't have to be lost,"`_ the televangelist told to the unseen audience. _`"The lord is talking to you right now; he's saying, you are my child and you have a purpose! You think God forgot about you? I tell you no! All you got to do is listen! Can't you just hear those angels singing? Isn't it beautiful? It's time. It's time to receive the message he's sending. It's time to listen to the Word of God! Do you hear the glory? I said, can you hear it? I said can you just hear the glory?"`_

The lamp was still flickering and the entire room began to shake. Gloria jumped to her feet, ran to the nearest doorframe since she thought it was an earthquake, and clutched at the frame, looking around in panic. Behind her, a blinding light glowed, and she turned to face it in horror, and then awe.

"Oh my god."

* * *

Several days later, Gloria was seated quietly on her bed in a psych ward, now a _very_ changed woman. Her hair was straight and her face was clean; she was wearing a bathrobe and was reading a book held in her left hand. The door opened behind her and she turned.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. "You're not the usual guy," she added to Sam, who was in white scrubs and was holding a clipboard.

"No, uh, just filling in," Sam said quickly. "So how you feeling today, Gloria?"

Gloria smiled. "I've never felt better."

Sam nodded, made a note on the chart and walked over to a nearby chair, facing her. "So, no disturbances lately?"

"You mean am I stark raving cuckoo for coco puffs?" Gloria inquired, still smiling.

Sam chuckled. "I didn't say that."

"It's all right," Gloria said reassuringly. "I know what people must think."

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

Gloria shrugged. "I think what I saw was real."

Sam looked around, pulled up a chair and set the clipboard down; he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and gave her an intensely earnest look. "I'd like to know what you saw," he requested.

"It was all over the news," Gloria said off-handedly, used to these sorts of questions. "I stabbed a man in the heart."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why would you do that?"

Gloria smiled again. "Because it was God's will."

Now _this_ confused Sam a bit. God had her _kill_ someone? "Did God talk to you?" he asked.

Gloria shook her head. "No. I get the sense God's a little busy for house calls. No, he, he sent someone."

"Someone?" Sam repeated.

Gloria nodded. "An angel," she explained. "It came to me in this beautiful white light, and it filled me with this feeling. It's, it's hard to describe."

"And this angel…" Sam encouraged.

"Spoke God's Word," Gloria answered.

Sam frowned. "And the Word was to kill someone?"

"I know, it sounds strange," Gloria admitted. "But what I did was very important. I helped him smite an evil man. I was chosen. For redemption."

Sam doubted that, but he could tell from Gloria's emotions, that she truly believed it. "This man you stabbed, did the angel give you his name?" he asked.

Gloria shook her head. "No, he just told me to wait for the sign," she added. "And the very next day I saw it, right beside the man's doorway. And I knew."

"Why him?" Sam asked.

"I just know what the angel told me: that this man was guilty to his deepest foundations," Gloria quoted from memory. "And that was good enough for me."

* * *

In a motel run by Elvis's former mission companion, Hiro Connor, Liz was sitting at a table, reading a thick book, and Dean was lying on the motel bed, which was vibrating, as he listened to music on his phone. Sam entered the room, and nodded to Liz, who waved, Dean, on the other hand, didn't notice him.

Sam rolled his eyes and went over to the bed. "Hey," he said and smacked Dean on the boot, getting his attention. "Hey!"

"Hey," Dean responded, turning off his music. "Man, you gotta try this, I mean there really _is_ magic in the Magic Fingers."

Liz pretended to gag and Sam grimaced. "Dean, you're enjoying that _way_ too much, it's kind of making me uncomfortable."

Dean frowned. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, hurt. "I mean, you've got both me and Liz on lockdown here, I'm bored out of my skull, and it turns out that Liz is reading a set of scriptures that Hannah gave to her and has been hiding them all this time."

"Hey, _you_ were the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, not me," Sam pointed out. "And Liz volunteered to look after you, Dean. Besides, we can't risk you just walking into a government facility and bringing Henriksen down on our heads again…and that would be bad for Hiro," he added.

A few days ago, Elvis Idris called them about how his former mission companion, Hiro Connor, needed some help to figure out what was going on in his hometown, and they had immediately drove to Rhode Island to take the case of odd killings.

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued enjoying the Magic Fingers. "Hmm."

Giving up for the moment, Sam waved a dismissing hand at Dean as he turned to go into the bathroom, and Liz went back to reading her scriptures; seconds later, the bed shuttered to stillness.

"Aw, dammit! That was my last quarter," he complained. "Liz, you got any quarters?"

"No I don't, Dean," Liz responded, not looking up from her reading.

Dean groaned and then looked hopefully at Sam. "Hey! You got any quarters?" he pulled his headphones out and got up, crossed the room and leaned on the doorway to the bathroom where Sam was washing his face.

"No," Sam responded.

Dean pouted and finally changed the subject. "So did you get in to see that crazy hooker?"

"Yeah. Gloria Sitnick," Sam confirmed. "And I'm not so sure she's crazy," he added, drying his face off and went back into the main room.

Dean followed. "But she _seriously_ believes she was touched by an angel?" he asked, earning a scowl from Liz, who enjoyed the _"Touch By an Angel"_ TV series.

Sam nodded, removing his jacket. "Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's _totally_ at peace; I almost fell asleep with just how peaceful her emotions were."

"Oh yeah, you're right, that sounds completely sane," Dean scoffed. "What about the dude she stabbed?"

"Uh, Carl Gully," said Sam. "She said she killed him because he was evil."

"Was he?" Liz asked.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn't have a criminal record, he worked over at the campus library, had lots of friends, he was a churchgoer-" and he then shrugged, not having to say anything else. "But I did contact Gloria to see if she could dig anything up that I might've miss."

Liz sighed. "That really doesn't help very much. And I hope that Garcia _can_ find something."

"Hm," Dean agreed. "So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?"

"No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to," Sam pointed out. "Little odd, don't you think?"

Dean had to agree with that. "Well, odd yes, supernatural maybe. But angels? I don't think so. And don't start, Liz, I know what you've been reading in the scriptures and what Hiro has been talking to you about."

Liz pouted and Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because there's no such thing, Sam," said Dean, surprised that his little brother had even _asked_ that question when it was obvious…to him anyway.

Sam chuckled, sitting down on one of the beds. "Dean, there's _ten_ times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted."

"Plus, every prophet of the LDS church have confirmed to have talked with angels," Liz added, joining Sam on the bed, holding the scriptures in her hands. "I mean, in the Book of Mormon, a man named Nephi was _ordered_ by an angel to kill an evil man named Laben in order to obtain the gold plates before he, his father Lehi, and the rest of their family fled to America."

Dean rolled his yes. "Yeah, you know what? There's a _ton_ of lore on unicorns too," he pointed out. "In fact, I hear that they, they ride on silver moonbeams, and they shoot rainbows out of their ass."

"Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?" Sam asked with a mock shock expression and Liz pretended to be devastated at the thought.

"Oh the _horror_!"

Dean scoffed. "That's cute. I'm just saying, man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under "bullcrap"."

Sam frowned. "And you've got angels on the bullcrap list."

Dean nodded. "Yep."

"Don't let Hiro hear you say that, Dean," Liz warned, "or he might show off his black-belt skills on your head." And her twin cringed at the thought.

Sam, however, wasn't about to let it drop. "Why?"

Dean sighed. "Because I've never seen one."

"So what?" Sam asked.

Dean couldn't believe that Sam was asking this sort of thing. "So, I believe in what I can see."

"Dean!" Sam said, exasperated. "We've seen things that most people couldn't even dream about."

"Yeah, we saw Elvis, his dad, Ricky, and other priesthood holders lay their hands on the head of someone who was possessed by a demon, and do an exorcism by just _praying_ ," Liz added.

"Exactly," Dean agreed. "With our own eyes, that's hard proof, okay? And I have to admit, that was an impressive exorcism. But in all this time I have _never_ seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them that isn't a Mormon? No. This is a, a demon or a spirit, you know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms."

Sam conceded. "Maybe."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Can we just…I'm going stir-crazy man," he admitted. "Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?"

"I was just there," Sam told them, noting Dean's disappointed expression. "Nothing. No sulfur, no EMF-"

"You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?" Dean teased and winced when Liz kicked him in the leg.

Sam chuckled at Liz's latest attempt to make their brother behave. "But Gloria _did_ say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gully's doorway."

"Could be something at his house, worth checking out," Dean said eagerly.

* * *

Hiro Connor, who was Japanese-American, was seated behind the front desk of his motel and was looking over some paperwork when a jingling bell led him to look up and smiled at the young woman who'd open the door moments before. "Hi, you need a room, miss?"

"I do," the woman confirmed as she approached the desk. "Just for a couple of nights."

"Of course." Hiro nodded as he handed her the register and accepted the credit card she'd handed him. "You in town to visit someone…Ms. Cartwright?" he inquired, looking at the name on the card.

The woman smiled slightly. "Sort of." And then nodded to the cars outside. "Don't have many people staying here?"

Hiro shrugged as he handed her back the card. "Not one of the best neighborhoods, but I get enough business to get by. All right, you'll be in room 119." And handed her the key. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," said the woman, accepting the key, and turned to go, just as the Winchesters walked past, heading for the Impala. "No way…" and bolted out the door, surprising Hiro; deciding to see what was going on, he called to one of his sons to watch the desk, and hurried outside.

"Jo! What're you doin' here?!" Dean exclaimed upon seeing Jo Hartville of all people.

"I take it that you know this young lady, Dean?" Hiro asked, bemused and curious.

Both Sam and Liz chuckled as Dean flushed. "Hiro Connor, this is Jo Hartville, she's a fellow hunter and her mom owns a roadhouse back in Nebraska that a lot of hunters spend time at between hunts," he said as an introduction. "Jo, this is Hiro Connor, and he called us to help figure out what's going on around this neighborhood."

"You mean the killings and the killers claiming that they were ordered to do it by an angel?" Jo asked, surprising them. "Yeah, Ash called me up just as I was finishing an hunt in upstate New York, and I decided it was worth a look…honestly, I think it's a spirit stirring up trouble."

Liz chuckled at the expressions on her brothers' faces. "We were about to head out and check the house of Carl Gully, who was the most recent victim…want to come along?"

Jo smiled. "Sure."

* * *

A/N: Surprise! R&R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: CHOSEN

Supernatural: Houses of the Holy

A/N: I return with another chapter for you all to enjoy, thanks for the review, and I admit I have been spending _way_ too much time with my nephews this week. Ugh!

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO: CHOSEN**

" _How much better_ _is it_ _to get wisdom than gold! And to get understanding rather to be chosen than silver!_ _"_

 _Proverbs 10:20_

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up in front of Carl Gully's house; it was a moderate single-family home with steps leading up to the front door, and to the left of the door was a plastic angel figure. Dean mounted the steps and examined it.

"Oh hey, Sam. I think I found it. It's a sign from up above," he joked as he peered in the window. "Well, I think I learned a valuable lesson: Always put up your Christmas decorations _after_ Thanksgiving, or you might get filleted by a hooker from God. Ha."

"I'm laughing on the inside," Sam said dryly while both Liz and Jo scowled; he then wandered around back, through a gate, and the others followed; soon they found a wooden storm cellar. "You know, Gloria said the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations," he remarked thoughtfully.

"You think she _literally_ meant the foundation?" Dean asked skeptically.

"We might as well check," Jo suggested.

Sam and Dean opened the creaking door and they went down the steps one at a time, shining flashlights around.

Dean examined several jars. "Hmm."

Looking around, Sam noticed scratches on a wall near the floor; he leaned over to get a closer look, and noticed that something was embedded in the stone. "Hey."

"You got something?" Dean asked as he, Liz, and Jo came over.

Not answering right away, Sam dug at the wall and pulled something out.

"What is it?" Liz asked.

Sam held it up to the light. "It's a fingernail."

Both Jo and Liz grimaced while Dean grabbed four shovels from the wall and they began to dig.

* * *

A few hours later, they dug a deep pit and revealed a pile of skeletons in the process.

"So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian," Jo remarked while Liz grimaced.

"Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I'll give you that," Dean admitted.

* * *

That night, a young man, named Zach, was lying on a single bed, staring at the ceiling. He drank from a bottle of liquor, and a comic book entitled "THESEUS" rested open on his chest. The room began to shake violently, the lights flickering.

More bottles tumbled to the floor from the nightstand, and the television toppled with a crash. Terrified, Zach scrambled out of bed frantically; a blinding light appeared in front of him and he held up a hand in terror; then awe washed over his features instead as he seemed to go into a trance.

* * *

An hour later, Zach walked down the sidewalk calmly, hands in his pockets; he saw the blinding light beside a house and stopped, nodding and smiling. He approached the house and knocked; a middle-aged man, named Frank, opened the door.

"Yes?"

Zach introduced himself, still smiling. "Hi. My name is Zach."

"Can I help you?" Frank asked.

Instead of answering, Zach pulled out a knife and stabbed Frank through the heart; there was a stone angel to the left of the door - approximately where the blinding light had come from.

* * *

The next morning, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with a police radio in hand, listening, and he was painfully bored.

 _`"We've got a minor TA, involving a motorcycle and a, uh van, this is at the corner of 28th and Pine, 28th and Pine-"`_ a woman's voice reported over the police radio.

Just then, Sam entered with Liz and Jo, each carrying a bag of _Subway_ food; Dean sighed and looked back at the "Magic Fingers" controller.

"Did you bring quarters?" he asked hopefully.

Sam frowned at the controller while both Liz and Jo chuckled, collecting a pair of chairs to sit on.

"Dude, I'm _not_ enabling your sick habit," he stated, tossing a foot-long sandwich at Dean and it hit him in the chest. "You're like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies." And he sat down on the bed.

Dean pouted. "What are you talking about? I eat. And I got news."

"Me too," Sam agreed.

"All right, you go first," Dean suggested, taking a bit of his sandwich.

"Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year," Sam reported. "All of them were last seen at the library. And Garcia discovered that Carl Gully moved from a small town in New York, where several students disappeared from the local college last year, and he worked at the library there, too."

"Where Carl Gully worked," Dean remarked.

Sam nodded. "Yep."

Dean was disgusted. "Sick bastard."

"So Gloria's angel-" Sam began.

"Angel?" Dean cut in, eyebrows raised.

Sam rolled his eyes while both Liz and Jo giggled. "Okay. Whatever this thing is…"

"Okay, well, whatever it is, it's struck again," Dean interrupted, and this got their attention.

"What?"

"I was listening to the police radio before you got here," Dean explained, "there was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart."

Sam frowned. "And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?"

"Yep. Roma Downey made him do it," Dean said as he stood, avoiding Liz's attempt to kick him as he crossed the room to take a Post-it note off the mirror. "Now, I, uh…I got the victim's address."

* * *

Soon the Winchesters and Jo climbed over the fence into the yard and slipped in through the window. A half hour later, Sam was sitting down at the computer as Dean, Liz, and Jo searched the house.

"Find anything?" he asked when they returned.

Dean was looking through a bunch of catalogs. "Well, Frank liked his catalogue shopping, but that's about all I got. The girls are still searching upstairs. How about you?"

"Not much here," Sam admitted. "Except he's got this one locked file on his computer, I can't…hold on." He pressed a few buttons, and then grinned in triumph. "Not anymore." He then looked at the first one and frowned. "God."

"What?" Dean asked, setting aside the catalogs.

"Well, he's got all these emails," Sam explained, clicking through the emails. "Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer." He then paused for a moment, realizing something. "This lady who's thirteen years old."

Dean groaned, realizing what this meant. "Oh, I _don't_ want to hear this."

Sam agreed. "Looks like they met in a chat room. These emails are pretty personal, Dean. Look at that. Setting up a time and place to meet."

"Great," Dean muttered.

Sam nodded. "They were _supposed_ to meet today."

"Well, that explains what we found hidden in the back of his closest," Liz remarked, entering the room with Jo, and both were carrying two cardboard boxes. "There's _at least_ twelve more of these."

"Do I dare ask what's in those?" Dean inquired, warily eying the boxes.

"Kiddie porn," Liz announced and both her siblings cringed. "Yeah, we'll want to get rid of our fingerprints and call the police on this one, too."

"And I thought the supernatural forces we fight against do gross stuff," Jo complained as they put the boxes down.

Dean had to agree. "Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing." He admitted. "I don't know, man, this is weird, you know? I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like a-"

"Avenging angel?" Sam suggested and Dean turned away, rolling his eyes. "Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy-"

Just then, Dean noticed something and picked it up. "Hey."

"What?"

"You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer, right?" Dean asked, now looking at a filer.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Dean became thoughtful. "What was the name of his church?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Uh, Our Lady of the Angels?"

"Of course that'd be the name," Dean scoffed and he showed them a church flier. "Looks like Frank went to the same church."

* * *

It wasn't long before the Winchesters and Jo were walking through the sanctuary of the church, speaking to a friendly-looking priest, Father Reynolds.

"So you're interested in joining the parish?" Father Reynolds asked.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday."

"He means _attend_ church every Sunday, Father," Liz corrected, elbowing her twin in his side.

Father Reynolds took that in stride. "Where'd you say you lived before?"

"Uh-" Sam began.

"Fremont, Texas," Jo said quickly.

The Winchesters nodded, glad that Jo covered that bit. "Yeah."

"Really?" Father Reynolds remarked. "That's a nice town. St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there."

Dean did some quick thinking. "Sure, yeah, no it's uh, Father O'Malley."

Father Reynolds frowned. "Hmm, I know a Father Shaughnessy."

"Shaughnessy, exactly," Dean stammered. "What'd I say?"

"You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father," Sam said quickly, gently nudging the priest's mind.

"And we're happy to have you," Father Reynolds agreed, unaware that his mind was being altered, "we could use some young blood around here."

"Hey, listen, I gotta ask…no offense, but uh, the neighborhood?" Dean asked.

Father Reynolds sighed. "Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important," he admitted. "Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off."

Dean nodded. "Huh. Yeah, we heard about the murders."

"Yes," Father Reynolds said wistfully. "The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years."

"And the killers said that an angel made them do that?" Liz asked.

Father Reynolds nodded. "Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic."

"So you don't believe in those angel yarns?" Dean asked.

"Oh, no, I absolutely believe," Father Reynolds told them. "Kind of goes with the job description."

Sam nodded to a painting on the wall. "Father, that's Michael, right?"

"That's right," Father Reynolds confirmed as they all stopped and looked at the painting. "The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons, holy force against evil."

Dean didn't know why, but when he looked at that painting of Michael, he felt a chill go down his spine and a feeling that there was something about it that held an important role in his future.

"So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks?" Sam asked. "They're fierce, right? Vigilant?"

Father Reynolds shrugged. "Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful; but yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified." Both Sam and Liz nodded, but both Dean and Jo were confused. "Luke. Two nine," he added.

* * *

"Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father," Jo said as they stepped out of the church a short while later.

"Oh, it' s my pleasure," Father Reynolds said pleasantly. "Hope to see you again."

Dean noticed a collection of tribute items at the bottom of the steps. "Hey, Father, what's, what is all that for?"

"Oh, that's for Father Gregory," Father Reynolds told them sadly. "He was a priest here."

"Was?" Liz asked.

"He passed away right on these steps," Father Reynolds explained. "He's interred in the church crypt."

"When did this happen?" Jo asked.

"Two months ago," Father Reynolds answered. "He was shot for his car keys."

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized, and both Liz and Jo nodded in agreement since it was a horrible way to go.

"Yeah, me too," Father Reynolds agreed. "He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out."

"For what?" Sam asked.

Father Reynolds sighed. "For deliverance, from the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose."

"Well, Padre, thanks," Dean said, shaking his hand. "We'll see you again." And Father Reynolds went back inside; the Winchesters and Jo investigated the shrine. "Well, it's all starting to make sense," he remarked. "Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there." And both Sam and Liz shifted uncomfortably, which Jo noticed while Dean didn't. "And he knew all the other stiffs, because they went to church here, in fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew."

"Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right?" Sam suggested. "Right about the time all this started happening?"

Dean finally noticed just how uncomfortable his siblings were. "Aw, come on, man, what's your guys' deal?"

Both Sam and Liz looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Dean sighed. "Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic," he admitted, "but since when are you all Mr. 700 Club? Same with you, Liz. No, seriously. From the get-go you _both_ have been willing to buy this angel crap, man. I mean, what's next, are you both going to start praying every day?"

"I do," Sam responded.

"And so do I," Liz agreed.

Dean stared at them, stunned while Jo was bemused. "What?"

"I do pray every day," Sam answered honestly. "I have for a long time."

"I do the same," Liz confirmed, "and I've been doing it more often ever since that yellow-eyed scumbag possessed me repeatedly."

Dean was startled, but he understood why Liz was looking for religious help since to him, having his sister possessed equaled to being raped in his mind. "The things you learn about a guy," he muttered. "Huh. Come on, let's go check out Father Gregory's grave."

* * *

That night, they slipped into the crypt, which was a maze of stone hallways, with numerous stone angel figurines. They wandered through slowly, Dean, Liz, and Jo were a little ahead of Sam; as they went into another room, Sam stopped, looking back at one of the angels when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He frowned as it, and then the entire room, began to shake. A brilliant light appeared behind him and he turned, confusion washing away to a look of awe.

* * *

Hearing the noise, Dean, Liz, and Jo hurried back into the room.

"Sam, come on, get the lead out," Dean snapped when he saw Sam in a dead faint on the floor, and rushed over. "Sammy? Sammy! Hey!"

"Sammy! Talk to us!" Liz yelped as she and Jo ran over, too.

"Sam?" Jo asked.

Sam jerked awake, groaning.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam stared at the stone angel, stunned. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay."

Dean wasn't convinced. "Come on." He and Liz hauled Sam to his feet and guided him into the sanctuary, a hand each on his arm, and Jo shut the door behind them. "You saw it, didn't you? Didn't you?" he asked.

Sam nodded, dazed. "Yeah. Yeah. Dean, I saw an angel."

"You…" Dean sighed as Liz helped Sam sit; changing tack, he pulled out a flask, unscrewed it, and handed it to him. "All right. Here."

Sam stared at the flask for a moment and then gave Dean a reproachful look. "I don't want a drink."

Dean shrugged and took a swig. "So. What makes you think you saw a, uh, angel?"

Sam wasn't sure if he could explain, but he did the best that he could. "It just, it appeared before me and I just, this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace."

"Okay, Ecstasy Boy, maybe we'll get you some glow-sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?" Dean teased, wincing when Liz kicked him in the shin and Jo chuckled.

Sam scowled. "Dean, I'm serious. It spoke to me, it knew who I was."

"It's just a spirit, Sam. Okay? And it's not the first one to be able to read people's minds," Dean pointed out, sitting down on another pew. "Okay, let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner, you've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, actually."

"Great," Dean sighed. "I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?"

"Actually I did, Dean," Sam answered. "And the angel told me. He hasn't done anything. _Yet_. But he will."

Feeling uneasy, Dean stood and started pacing. "Oh, this is, this is…I don't believe this."

"Dean, the angel hasn't been wrong yet!" Sam pleaded. "Someone's going to do something _awful_ , and I can stop it!"

Dean shot Sam a look. "You know, you're supposed to be bad too, maybe, maybe I should just stop you right now."

"Don't you _dare_ , Dean," Liz snarled, standing up and got into her twin's face. " _Don't_ you even _think_ about it," she added.

Sam was grateful for Liz standing up for him, but Dean's attitude concerning angels was getting to him. "You know what, Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility-"

Dean looked past Liz and toward their little brother. "What, that this is an angel?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop! Maybe this is God's will!"

Dean sighed, moving past Liz toward the pew. "Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's…hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier." He sat again. "I'll tell you who else had faith like that…mom. She used to tell both me and Liz when she tucked us in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she _ever_ said to us."

Liz sighed. "Dean…"

"You never told me that," Sam said, cutting his sister off.

"Well, what's to tell? She was wrong," Dean snapped. "There was _nothing_ protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God, and don't start with me about what those scriptures from the LDS church have written in them, Liz. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. You got any?" he waited for a moment and then continued. "Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit."

* * *

They returned to the crypt and easily found Father Gregory's tombstone, which was covered in creeping vines; the Winchesters and Jo crouched before it.

"That looks like-" Sam began

"It's wormwood," Dean confirmed. "Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are _not_ at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam."

Sam frowned, unsure. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Dean repeated, surprised.

Sam shrugged. "Dean, I don't know what to think."

Dean groaned and then got another idea that would help fix his brother's head. "Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof."

"How?" Sam asked.

Dean grinned. "We'll summon Gregory's spirit."

Sam and Liz stared at Dean like he was the one going nuts while Jo was confused. "What? Here? In the church?"

Dean nodded as they stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, we just need a few odds and ends, and that séance ritual in Dad's journal."

Sam scoffed as they walked away from the tombstone. "Oh, a séance, great. Hope Whoopi's available."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's funny, actually. Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest."

"But if it's an angel, it won't show," Sam pointed out. "Nothing will happen."

"Exactly," Dean agreed. "That's one of the perks of the job, Sam: we don't have to operate on faith. We can know for sure. Don't you want to know for sure? And we can also have Hiro join us and be helpful, too."

* * *

After calling Hiro to meet them at the church, they went shopping; the Winchesters and Jo left a small grocery store, and Sam was holding a paper sack and smiling.

"Dude. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spell work before, but this takes the cake," he remarked, chuckling. "I mean, a Sponge-bob placemat instead of an altar cloth?"

Dean grinned. "We'll just put it Sponge-bob side down."

Sam laughed, and then stopped in shock, staring at something across the street: a young man was holding a bunch of flowers, and there was a bright white light glow behind him. "Dean, guys, that's it."

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam kept staring. "That's the sign!"

Dean looked around. "Where?"

"Right there, right behind that guy!" Sam exclaimed, pointing. "That's him, Dean. We have to stop him."

* * *

A/N: I'll admit that Dean refusing to believe in angels and insisting that they're not real did make me want to slap him when I saw this episode the first time. R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: DIFFICULT CHOICES

Supernatural: Houses of the Holy

A/N: I'm back! So, it looks like Dean is gonna have to make a tough choice when it comes to Sam and the so-called angel that'd told him to take out a potential bad guy. Now, I know angels do exists since I'm a Latter-Day Saint, and so I find Dean's lack of faith a little frustrating, but that's his choice and I respect it.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE: DIFFICULT CHOICES**

" _And I will prepare destroyers against thee, every one with his weapons: and they shall cut down thy choice cedars, and cast_ _them_ _into the fire!_ _"_

 _Jeremiah 22:7_

The young man crossed the street, and Sam started to go after him but Dean stopped him.

"Wait a minute."

"What are you doing? Let me go," Sam ordered.

Dean gritted his teeth, doing his best to ignore that particular order, hating it when Sam used his Jedi mind trick on him. "You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?"

"Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him," Sam said seriously. "I'm going to stop him."

Dean frowned, not sure if he could believe that. "Define "stop", huh? I mean, what are you going to do?"

Sam sighed. "Dean, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it," he pleaded.

Dean also sighed, thinking. "All right, come on."

The young man had gotten into a car and started it up, pulling away. Dean got in the driver side of his car and started it, just as Jo jumped into the front seat; both Sam and Liz tried to get in the other side but the doors were locked.

"Dean. Unlock our door," Sam requested.

"You're not killing _anyone_ , Sam," Dean said seriously. "We got this guy, you both go do the séance."

"Dean!" both Sam and Liz protested.

Dean pulled away, following the young man at a short distance.

* * *

The man stopped at a corner and got out with the bunch of flowers, handing them to a woman waiting on the corner. They got in the car and drove off again.

* * *

Luckily the church wasn't that far from the store, and when they arrived they joined up with Hiro, who wasn't looking thrilled at the thought of being involved with a séance, and was clutching his scriptures.

* * *

Now, kneeling before Gregory's grave, Sam had the spell materials spread out: a circle of small white candles, a large black candle, the placemat, Sponge-bob side down, and the Journal; both Hiro and Liz were keeping their distance. He lighted the candles, picked up the Journal, and began reading.

"Amate spiritus obscure; te quaerimus, te oramus; nobiscum colloquere; aput nos circita…" He sprinkled some herb on the black candle and it flared once, brightly.

Just then, Father Reynolds entered, surprising them. "What are you doing? What is this? Who are you?" he asked Hiro, who was wearing his church clothes: a white shirt with long sleeves, black slacks, a gray tie, and shiny black shoes.

Sam quickly got his feet, stammering. "Uh, Father, please. I can explain. Um…actually, maybe I can't. Um. This is a, a séance."

"A séance?" Father Reynolds repeated, shocked. "Young man, you all are in the House of God."

"We know that, Father Reynolds," Hiro said quickly. "And believe me that I don't support this sort of thing, but if it can help stop the murders, then it's worth it."

"And just who are you, sir?" Father Reynolds demanded angrily.

"I'm Hiro Conner," said Hiro. "I own a local motel in the neighborhood and I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."

Father Reynolds' face went red. "Enough," he snapped, almost as if having a Mormon in his church was insulting. "You're coming with me." And he grabbed Sam's arm, shoving toward the entrance.

"Father, please, you, just _wait_ a second!" Sam pleaded, struggling with the priest with the help of Liz and Hiro, when a familiar bright glow build behind them; they all turned, Father Reynolds in awe, Liz was gaping, Hiro's eyes were wide with shock, and Sam was disappointment.

"Oh my god!" Father Reynolds gasped. "Is that, is that an angel?"

Sam shook his head, disappointed. "No, it's not. It's just Father Gregory."

And at that _exact_ moment, the bright glow dimmed and coalesced to reveal a young, handsome priest, Father Gregory.

"Thomas?!" Father Reynolds yelped.

Father Gregory smiled at them. _`"I've come in answer to your prayers."`_

* * *

Meanwhile, Dean and Jo continued to follow the supposedly evil young man.

* * *

Sam approached Gregory cautiously.

" _Sam,"`_ Gregory said, surprised to see him. _`"I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry."`_

"Father, I'm sorry," Sam apologized. "But you're not an angel."

Father Gregory smiled, almost like he was indulging a child. _`"Of course I am."`_

Sam shook his head. "No. You're a man. You're a spirit. And you need to rest."

"Sam's right," Hiro agreed, joining him. "I don't know why you're still here, Father, but you aren't an angel…not yet." _'Man, and for a moment I thought I was seeing a_ real _angel.'_

 _`"I was a man,"`_ Father Gregory agreed. _`"But now I'm an angel. I was on the steps of the church. And I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And suddenly I could see…everything. Father Reynolds, I saw you, praying and crying here. I came to help you."`_

"Help me how?" Father Reynolds asked, confused.

* * *

The supposedly evil young man turned down a dark alley and Dean temporarily lost sight of him; he slammed the steering wheel in frustration.

"Damn it!"

"We'll find them, Dean," Jo said reassuringly.

* * *

"Those murders…that was because of you?" Father Reynolds asked, stunned.

 _`"I received the Word of God,"`_ Father Gregory told them. _`"He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will."`_

Father Reynolds shook his head sadly. "You're driving innocent people to kill."

Father Gregory shook his head. _`"Those innocent people are being offered redemption. Some people need redemption. Don't they, Sam?"`_ And a uncertain expression crossed Sam's face.

"Sam, everyone has a chance to have redemption, but not like this," Hiro told him, having heard about Sam's encounter from Liz, and what he'd been going through from Elvis, including his fear of going dark-side.

"How can you call this redemption?" Father Reynolds asked, confused.

Father Gregory chuckled. _`"You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things."`_

"Those people," Sam pointed out. "They're locked up."

Father Gregory shook his head. _`"No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to heaven."`_

"No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong," Father Reynolds protested. "Thomas, this goes against everything you believe. You're lost, misguided."

"Father Reynolds' right," Liz agreed. "You're confused." And even Hiro nodded.

 _`"Father. No, I'm not misguided,"`_ Father Gregory insisted.

"You are not an angel, Thomas," Father Reynolds said sadly. "Men cannot be angels."

Father Gregory frowned. _`"But…but I don't understand. You prayed for me to come."`_

"I prayed for God's help," Father Reynolds admitted. "Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. "Thou shalt not kill". That's the word of God."

Hiro opened his scriptures and turned a few pages before he began reading aloud. "Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, and it is also written before you, that thou shalt not kill, and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment of God; but I say unto you, that whosoever is angry with his brother shall be in danger of his judgment. And whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council; and whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire.

"Therefore, if ye shall come unto me, or shall desire to come unto me, and rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee— Go thy way unto thy brother, and first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I will receive you" 3 Nephi 12. This is from The Book of Mormon, which is another testament of Jesus Christ, and this speaks of when Jesus visited the Americas after he came back from the dead three days after dying on the cross."

* * *

In an empty alley, the supposedly evil young man stopped the car; the young woman holding the flowers was confused, and smiled nervously.

"How come we stopped?"

The supposedly evil young man smiled back more nervously, his eye twitching. He leaned over suddenly and kissed her, and she fended him off with a laugh.

"Um, weren't we going to go to the movies?" she asked. "We should go, or we're going to be late."

Suddenly the supposedly evil young man hit her, hard, across the face, and she yelped in shock. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's just, I've never done this before," he apologized; scared, she tried to get out of the car, but he locked the door and she scrabbled uselessly at the handle. "I said I was sorry!"

"Please!" the young woman cried as he pulled out a knife. "What?"

He lunged at her with the knife and she tried to fight him off, and they struggled for a few seconds.

"No. Stop it!" he shouted.

Just then, the window shattered behind his head; Dean reached in, punched him, and slammed his face into the steering wheel. Dean unlocked the doors and the woman got out, almost collapsing into Jo's waiting arms; he tumbled over the hood to reach her, grabbing her shoulders frantically as Jo pulled her some distance from the car.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Are you okay?!"

The young woman was crying. "Thank god!"

Behind them, the evil young man had come to and started the car; he drove off.

"Damn it! Are you sure you're okay? Do you have a cell phone?" Dean asked and she nodded, still sobbing. "Call 9-1-1!" he and Jo ran off and got in his car to chase after the evil young man again.

* * *

Father Gregory was staring, bewildered, at his own headstone; he turned to face Reynolds, Hiro, Liz, and Sam.

"Let us help you," Sam offered.

Father Gregory shook his head. _`"No."`_

"It's time to rest, Thomas, to be at peace," Father Reynolds told him. "Please, let me give you Last Rites."

"It's time for you to move on," Hiro agreed, having read several other verses from other parts of the Book of Mormon in order to get through to the spirit.

Father Gregory nodded in resignation, and Father Reynolds lifted his hands in prayer.

"Oh Holy Host, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day, in fulfillment of the will of God." He then gasped when Father Gregory flickered like a distorted image.

 _`"Father Reynolds?"`_ Father Gregory asked, scared.

Father Reynolds smiled sadly. "Rest." Father Gregory then knelt, and he held a hand over Gregory's forehead while Hiro went over to the tombstone and placed a drop of consecrated oil on the stone before resting his hands on it, quietly doing his own prayer.

"I call upon the archangel Raphael, Master of the Air, to make open the way," Father Reynolds prayed. "Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend; that this being might be awakened to the world beyond." Father Gregory did the bright holy glow again, and then vanished. Reynolds lowered his hand in awe, and Hiro stepped away from the tombstone as the wormwood died and fell off the stone.

* * *

Chasing the evil young man at a more frantic rate now, Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly while Jo cling to the armrest. They cut across lanes, over grass, and generally caused mayhem; at a cross street, a small pickup truck carrying long metal pipes screeched to a halt in front of the man's car.

A pipe spun off the truck bed, bouncing once on the ground and plowing straight through his windshield; it impaled him straight through the chest. Dean stopped the car in shock and got out, as did Jo, who was equally shocked.

"Holy…"

* * *

A/N: A painful way to go, I admit, but the scumbag _did_ have it coming. R &R everyone!


	4. Chapter 4: GOD'S WILL?

Supernatural: Houses of the Holy

A/N: Hello, I'm back and here's the final chapter of this story; at the end of the story there'll be a twist that you won't be expecting, and an announcement from me.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR: GOD'S WILL?**

" _For he_ _is_ _our God; and we_ _are_ _the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. To day if ye will hear his voice._ _"_

 _Psalms 95:7_

The next morning, Sam and Liz were sitting in the motel room, overwhelmed by the events of last night when both Dean and Jo entered.

"How was your day?" Dean asked his siblings while Jo slumped in a chair, both shaken and exhausted.

"You were right," Sam told him. "It wasn't an angel, it was Gregory."

Dean pulled the flask from his inner pocket, took a drink, then, considering, offered it to Sam, who took it.

"I don't know, Dean, I just…" Sam sighed as he sat on the bed. "I wanted to believe, so badly. It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. All alone, you know? There's so much evil out there in the world, Dean, Liz, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up-"

"Yeah, well, don't worry about that," Dean told him as he sat down on the bed beside him, and Liz joined them. "All right? Liz and I are watching out for you."

Sam smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know you are. But you're just one person, Dean, and so are you, Liz. And I needed to think that there was something else watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe I could be saved." And he laughed nervously. "But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, well, it's funny you say that."

"Why?" Liz asked.

"Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information," Dean admitted. "That guy in the car was bad news. Jo and I barely got there in time."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"He's dead," Dean responded, glancing at Jo, who looked away.

Sam frowned. "Did…you?"

"No," Dean admitted. "But I'll tell you one, thing. If…the way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean…I don't know what to call it."

"What? Dean, what did you see?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged helplessly. "Maybe…God's will."

* * *

A few days later, Jo headed off and the Winchesters said goodbye to Hiro before they also headed off for another adventure somewhere else in the United States, but little did they know was that the next adventure would blow their minds in new ways, and also the minds of the BAU team, too.

* * *

Out in the countryside of Iowa, a young woman, with long hair that was dyed pitch black, chocolate brown eyes, pale skin covered with tattoos and piercing, and wore solid black clothes and army boots, was hitchhiking along the interstate with the hope of getting a ride to New Orleans; her name was Tracy O'Connell, but she preferred to go by her gothic vampire name: Darla, and she was running away from home.

She was hoping to find _real_ vampires in the French Quarter of the city and, hopefully, become one, too; her parents had objected her obsession of vampires and had wanted her to focus on school, and had even sought to enroll her into a private school up in New York, where her grandparents lived.

Tracy's reaction was to pack up her stuff, take all of the money out of her accounts, plus stealing money and stuff to sell from her parents, and ran away; that was five days ago, and she was wishing that she'd planned her escape better, or at least brought a coat for the cold.

Tracy was rubbing her arms and was hoping that a car, or even a truck or van, would come by soon so that she could convince them to give her a ride when she caught a whiff of sulfur and froze. "What the-?" she looked around, hearing an eerie whispering that seemed to be calling her name.

 _`"Tracy…Tracy…"`_

' _Okay, I'm gone!'_ clutching her bags to her chest, Tracy ran as fast as she could, her boots thumping through the dirt and gravel alongside the road; she'd been running for roughly ten minutes when she miss-stepped on a half-buried rock and crashed onto the ground, scraping her hands, knees, and chin.

Whimpering, she struggled to sit up as the eerie whispering got louder, followed by an chilling wind, and screamed when she spotted a massive demonic-like black smoke bearing down on her; Tracy tried to get away when it surrounded her and shoved it way down her throat, and soon all she knew was blackness, fear, and pain for several seconds before nothingness took over, which was a relief.

Tracy was on her knees and hands, breathing hard until she finally sat up, her eyes a solid black now. "I'm _finally_ freed of that stupid pit," the demon declared and then examined the meat-suit it was now possessing. "Hmm, not what I like, but it'll do…for now."

"So you _finally_ got out of the pit again, Meg?" a voice asked, and Meg almost fell over as she turned around; standing about a foot behind her was the demon Chester, who was _still_ possessing the truck driver. "Nice to see you again, little sister."

"Brother," Meg responded as she stood up and smirked. "So _that's_ your chosen meat-suit?"

Chester shrugged. "I would've gone after someone younger, but my first choice was a Mormon, and you can guess what happen when I tried to jump him."

Meg grimaced, having experienced that first-hand herself when she'd gotten out of the pit the first time two years before getting sent back. "Yeah, I've been there. So what does daddy have you doing?"

"I'm looking for the Devil's Gate, and I'm pretty certain that I know where it is now," Chester responded. "However, getting to it is a whole different ballgame. So, I'm sure you know what's been going on lately."

"Yeah, I was given an update while downstairs," Meg responded, not thrilled with the "don't touch the special children" rule or even the "don't touch the Winchesters" rule either…at least not until Azazel gave the go ahead. "I even saw John Winchester, too, and he's putting up a fight, quite impressive actually."

"Good." Chester was worried that Meg would try to go after the Winchesters, especially after Dean, who had sent her sent back downstairs, even though both Sam and Liz had read the exorcism; he then frowned when Meg suddenly turned and began walking away, abandoning Tracy's bags on the side of the road. "Meg, where're you going?"

Meg smirked. "I'm gonna do some visitin', and I think I'll start with the Winchesters."

"Have you gone nuts?" Chester asked, shocked. "You know full well that the Winchesters are off limits."

Meg chuckled. "There was a time when I _actually_ cared about daddy's plan, but right now I want payback; see you around Chester." And then she was gone.

"Dammit!" Chester cursed. "Meg come back!" _'Great, dad will gone nuts when I tell him about this.'_ And he also left the area, cursing his bad luck.

* * *

Springwood, Ohio…

A group of teenage girls gathered around an Ouaji board and began asking questions… unaware of what they were going to contact, and they all screamed when the spirit they called upon took control of the board.

 _One, two, Freddie's coming for_

 _You, three four, better lock_

 _Your door, five six, grab your_

 _Crucifix, seven eight, gonna_

 _Stay up late, nine ten, never_

 _Sleep again…_

* * *

A/N: Post in your reviews if you can guess who will be appearing in my next story.

So, now I know that the next episode of season 2 is "Born Under a Bad Sign", but I'm not a big fan of that particular episode, so I'm skipping it, and I'm putting in my own story, which came to me in a dream. R&R everyone!


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